The Krinkle Chronicles
by DarkFlameOfTheMonkey
Summary: A bit like 'Behind the Bone Curtain'. Inspiration is taken down as it comes, a peek into the life of Gyrus Krinkle!
1. The Krinkle World

**A/N: I have a ton of things to do but I want to do this anyway! Yipee!**

**Disclaimer: Umm, if you don't know this off by heart already I'm afraid you have very little memory capacity. Or logic present inside your brain...**

The Krinkle World

Gyrus Krinkle was feeling happy today. He was off that cursed moon, comfortably seated on _his_ couch, in _his _house. He was enjoying a nice, simple, insignificant and typical space-related video game.

Then disaster struck the household of Krinkle.

"Oh my god!" Gyrus yelled at the top of his voice. He shook his head, the video game goggles falling off his head. "I can't believe you turned off my game!" the man screamed at his sister.

The girl in question rolled her eyes. "I'm getting worried about you Gyrus." she said flatly.

"Worried? About me? You're kidding right?" Gyrus put his goggles back on, talking while he fiddled around to turn the game back on. "Jeez, why do you even bother? Everyone else knows I'm insane."

The girl rolled her eyes yet again. "Yah!" she said in that gut-wrenching tone of a teenage girl. "But I'm younger than you, so I, like, have to be that way. You're my only way into university of some stupid college on this planet since Mom and Dad left, so I _have_ to make sure you keep your pathetic and low-paying job! It's a miracle you managed to get back to CleanOps anyway...

"WHICH brings me to the point of your robot monster! Do you know what that she-witch did to me yesterday?!" the girl shrieked at her brother's face.

Gyrus was well into his newest game by now. "Christine, _relax._ I don't care whether you think of her as a mom or not, she's just there, to do stuff Mom isn't here for."

The girl's mouth opened in disgust. "Are you _joking?!_ You have no idea how horrible she is to me! You should have gotten married and sent to her a scrap metal plant!" Christine shook her head. "Why oh _why_ did you have to break up with Brooklyn?" she moaned. The girl started pacing in front of the lounge, her brother still playing his game.

"I can't believe it." Christine continued. "You're pathetic enough when people _don't_ know that you had to get a freaking _robot _for a freaking _girlfriend! _And you managed to get _DUMPED_ by her!"

Gyrus winced. "Ya know, you never started liking Brooklyn and talking on the phone with her until _after_ we separated..."

Christine flicked the comment off. "You are _sooo_ lame..."

"Language." Gyrus said absently. He winced as he lost a life.

"'Lame' is not a swearword! Lame-o! Lame-o lame-o lame!" Christine taunted, dancing around the couch until she tripped over a footstool.

Gyrus laughed. "Lame-o? Is that the best you can do? Now _that_ is lame."

Gyrus' kid sister pouted. "You're still pathetic beyond all human imagination."

The middle-aged, and apparently, pathetic, man nodded. "You have no idea."

Christine sighed exaggeratedly, resigning to go up to her room and read something random. Not more than five minutes later did Gyrus Krinkle scream suddenly.

"Dammit! I'll get you someday, alien scourge!"

Christine groaned and plunged her face into her pillow. Her brother was just too weird for her.

**That was really weird, wasn't it? Ah well.**

**Okay, this is sort of like another of my stories, 'Behing the Bone Curtain'. Little peek into the life of Gyrus Krinkle. I hope it'll be funny, and it's in no way meant to be taken literally or seriously. But you can review anyway!**

**Stay tuned, for up next is a flashback to Gyrus' first real **_**human**_** date in high school!**


	2. The Dance with Doom

**A/N: I have no idea where this came from... Sorry it took a while.**

**Disclaimer: I shall never own SRMTHFG. What a big shame. Gee, I always pick the wrong days to be sarcastic.**

**It's loosely titled... Very loosley...**

A Dance with Doom

This was really, really awkward for a guy like Gyrus.

The music was awful. It was the weirdest music he had ever heard. Could make your ears run off and commit suicide it you listened to it long enough.

Gyrus' clothes seemed a little askew to him by now. The doubts were beginning to push themselves to the front of his mind. If only they'd been there when he was getting dressed earlier that evening. And the clothes were very uncomfortable, very different to his normal shirt and shorts.

And he was sweating. Really sweating. Gyrus felt like passing out soon, or maybe vomiting. Perhaps both.

_Think of it this way,_ Gyrus thought to himself. _At least you're being recognised by a girl other than the one you beat at space-draughts last week._

But beside the fact that Gyrus was actually holding a conversation with a female successfully, it was still very awkward. Gyrus' eyes were constantly at his feet, checking to make sure he didn't trip over her shoes.

The _her_ in question was rather pretty. It would amaze most people that knew him that Gyrus could manage to get within three metres of her at all. Normally Gyrus wouldn't recognise any of the girls in his school at all. And most of the girls wouldn't recognise him either.

But then, this was the last year of secondary school, and it was a year for the students to make the most of things. It had taken a long time nonetheless for Gyrus to finally ask that nice girl from the art class to the end of year dance.

The speakers thrummed on, the CDs kept spinning. The coloured lights spun around, frantically turning in their sockets in the ceiling, always changing directions. Gyrus Krinkle kept dancing. Or, at least he _tried_ to_ look _like he was dancing.

Gyrus couldn't dance. Not for his life. His mind repeatedly told his brain that his body couldn't dance. And to put it in Gyrus' mind's words: _"...so why don't the whole lot of us just get off this floor?"_

But the girl Gyrus was dancing with didn't seem to mind. But she hadn't smiled the way some of the other girls had tonight either. Half of them were giddy, spending time with their groups of friends, and a few of the braver ones whispering short messages to their high school crushes as they walked past. The other half drifted around near the tables, nodding to the songs that the hired disk jockey put out. The white tablecloths on the tables were bright, but a few of them splashed with soda and juice.

What a night that was.

Three songs. That's how many songs Gyrus had danced to with his 'date'. A weird number, the number three. He'd never really liked the number three. His date had run off to a friend to ask her something. Gyrus didn't really understand girls in their teenage years.

He never would after that night.

The girl weaved between the rest of the class of students, hitching up her yellow dress and taking at least two minutes to get back to Gyrus.

She shook her hair out of her eyes. "Having a good time here?"

Gyrus nodded numbly, looking over to the speakers just for the sake of looking at something that wasn't her.

"Okay. I've just seen a friend of mine. She's in Advanced Mathematics. She told me something, something I don't necessarily like, but I think it's true anyway...

"I'm in Art. You're in Science and Engineering. I don't think we'll be seeing each other after this year."

Gyrus blinked. He couldn't really manage much else. Not sad enough to gasp and wail, not shocked enough to step backwards from her. But for some reason, it was the worst news he had ever received. He couldn't even shrug.

She, on the other hand, was wincing and lifted her shoulders to her ears. "Another dance?" she asked weakly.

Gyrus wiggled his jaw around nervously before holding out his hand. "I have nothing else to do tonight."

She shrugged. "Me neither."

**And he was probably the most intelligent guy in the year. Polite too. Up to a point.**


	3. When Robots Get Smashed and Pummelled

**AN: Odd... When I had the idea for this story, I clearly remember having three specific ideas for chapters... But now I've completely forgotten the third one. I **_**think**_** it was this, but I'm not entirely sure...**

**Disclaimer: If I did own SRMTHFG at any time, I might've gambled it away by now. Who knows.**

When Robots Get Smashed and Pummelled in General

Gyrus Krinkle smiled and his hand tightened around his laser-tool. The Steel Hammer was going _down_ today.

"Okay folks, this is the final round!" the announcer called. "And after five calls for a time-out, is the Iron Fist finally ready?"

Gyrus opened the back panel and rewired in a few places, and checked everything else was alright. He slapped the metal panel back up, screwed it on tightly, and at last stood up and raised his arm.

His robot entered the battle arena. The onlookers had gotten used to the sight of a robot in the tournament looking very much like an elderly woman by now. But still, who would _seriously _come up with the idea of modelling a robot on a grandmother?!

Gyrus crossed his fingers. _Come on Iron Fist, come _on _Iron Fist!_ He leaned forward, sweat trickling down his face as the dominating robot, dubbed notoriously as 'The Steel Hammer', met its opponent. Which was coincidentally Gyrus' robot. He'd grown fond of his robot, nicknaming it 'Iron Fist' for the competition. It looked like a clumsy, clanking, metallic version of an ageing human female. There had been a logic in that, but Gyrus had forgotten it at the moment. And so he just watched.

The Steel Hammer was rather large and heavy. Its primary weapon was not actually made of one hundred percent steel. No one really knew, actually. But it looked like steel to the builder's children, and so Steel Hammer it would be. Anyhow, it looked _nasty._

"In this year's Shuggazoom Robot Rumble, _who will win?!_" the announcer screamed into the microphone as Steel Hammer started hammering away at the ground near Iron Fist.

The Iron Fist, old-woman-resembling though it was, moved out of the way each time. It was made tall and skinny, manoeuvrable, but Gyrus still worried it would be toppled over. He could only manage to get it to move on wheels before the competition started. A few of the other competitors have gotten their robots to move with 'feet'. Stompers, pretty much deadly to the other robots if they were designed in the right way.

Gyrus clenched his teeth and leaned forward. His robot had gotten behind The Steel Hammer, and it was taking a while to turn around. _Typical._ _The creator didn't think of anything but brute force, _Gyrus thought in contempt. This would be the perfect time. Gyrus recalled the time when the robots were controlled by the creators with remote controls, but Shuggazoom had advanced far enough to leave remotes far behind. So he just smiled and watched.

His robot's arm raised, and was brought down. The Steel Hammer now sported a large dent on its left side. It lurched sideways a bit, then turned around further to meet the other robot. A compartment in The Iron Fist's abdomen opened and let propelled two heavy metal balls connected with a chain forward. The projectile buried itself into Steel Hammer's armour and beyond, and Gyrus Krinkle leapt up and pumped his fist in the air.

But his robot's opponent wasn't done yet. It raised its hammer for another hit.

And then a spinning saw slid out of The Iron Fist's chest, slicing almost completely through the other robot.

_"In your FACE!" _Gyrus screamed in ecstasy. He ran down to the arena, unsealed the door and stepped inside.

"Hahaha. Sucker." Iron Fist laughed at the defeated robot. It was squeezed from behind by a very happy Gyrus.

"I can't believe it! We got through! We won this round!"

"Oh Gyrus, can you check my fuel cell? I feel a little tipsy." the feminine robot wheezed.

"Oh, sure." Gyrus got on his knees and opened up the panels, chattering excitedly. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Oh Gyrus, don't waste time flattering a robot."

"No, really! This is great! And it only took five separate prototype models and twenty-seven upgrades to get to the finals!"

**Well, that was rather shoddy. Shame I forgot that idea... This is the temporary end, if I get any more ideas about Gyrsu Krinkle, you'll see another chapter. For now, adieu!**


End file.
